Graceful Dancing
by Spliced-up-Angel
Summary: " It is barely bright out as the sun is setting over the mutated island. I used to be as pretty as that sunset. The colours of red, blue, purple, and orange that reflects off the horizon used to look fascinating on me. I was quite the doll. I'm jealous of the sky." AU. Some S/D. Rated for language and minor content.


**Hey, this has nothing to do with my Summer of Crack series… I just felt like writing something for Dakota, since I haven't worked with her character yet. I find her fascinating and her design is just dashing. It was pretty fun to write considering I wrote it at three in the morning (put me right to sleep XD). Anyways, this is slightly an AU story, based off the song "Graceful Dancing" by Blue October, and takes place right after Dakota's change. In this universe, Dakota is still an intern and never went back in the game. Also, this might be my last update for a while because I'm going back to school on Wednesday. Well, I hope you enjoy…**

**Graceful Dancing**

I'm ugly. I'm a freak to society. I can't live anymore. And _He_ did this to me. The toxic waste was merely a small implication that caused this nasty outcome.

My hair. My beautiful blonde locks that took three years to grow out are gone. Replaced with short, ugly green hai- I don't know what to even call it! It's as if my graceful locks never existed. My skin- the skin I worked so hard to be blemish-free, molded to perfection- is now scaly and fierce, changed from tanned to an ugly orange. My skin's drier than Ann Maria's! To make it worse, I am no longer that pretty face, who batted her eyelashes at everyone who passed by, who could perch her lips and blow a kiss to a passing stranger or lovely camera man. I am a monster. A thing. A thing whose speech is so impaired that I cannot even form a simple sentence.

This pain, this trauma. I'm not sure whether to be scared, angry, or sad. I'm going insane. My state of mind is not right.

I find myself in Wawanakwa's forest. A forest filled with creatures that are almost as mutated as me. I probably wandered here while freaking out about my freaky image. I find myself sitting on a rock, situated against a tree. Of course, I am much larger than the rock, so I might as well be on the cold forest floor. A purple frog with fourteen eyes and a lizard tail hops up beside me. I consider screaming, but I'm pretty sure I'm scarier. This tormented animal is just like me. He'd been exposed to this inhuman environment that should've killed the poor creature. I feel his pain as I've been through similar. Chris is a sick bastard. I allow the creature to sit with me and enjoy the silence of what is left of Wawanakwa while it lasts.

It is barely bright out as the sun is setting over the mutated island. I used to be as pretty as that sunset. The colours of red, blue, purple, and orange that reflects off the horizon used to look fascinating on me. I was quite the doll. I'm jealous of the sky.

I discard the thought and decide to really think. To really think about how my mother spent over half of Daddy's money on my looks, acting classes, modeling classes... Everything gone to waste. I was always told, "Dakota, you're really something. With that smile of yours, you'll go far." or "Dakota, dear, go get those split ends trimmed! And heaven forbid! Dye those damn roots before the world looks at you!" Perfection was implanted in my head. I remember the pain I went through to achieve my looks: not eating, spray tans, makeup artists, needle therapy, extensions...

I look back at this and realize: Am I really doing this for myself or am I doing this so my mother will accept me? Did I really audition to be on this stupid show to please my mother and to redeem the fact that I can become famous? She never cared about sweet little Dakota who wanted to go to Girl Scouts and learn how to camp. She didn't care about preteen Dakota who never cared for yoga and would much rather play basketball. She never cared about sixteen-year-old Dakota who was spending too much time pleasing others that she hadn't even had a real first date!

Instead she cared for the rich and famous Dakota who would eventually become an actress, a model-something! The Dakota who took ballet and etiquette classes regardless of how dumb they seemed. The Dakota who truly hates her life and how she treats others, just to get mother's approval. I guess I don't have any other objectives other than aspiring to become famous. But for what? Being a total prom queen bitch? I'm pretty sure Paris Hilton is doing a Hell of a job right now.

Yet, that's all I am good for, right? Just for show? I'm not exactly talented. I mean, I can't solve simple math equations or be acquainted with anyone for long. I will never understand why Iago wanted Othello dead or why Juliet took the poison to end her life.

Remembering scripts, names, and songs. That's what I'm good at. It's not enough. I suppose being pretty and good at kissing doesn't count either, right? It doesn't matter anymore! I can't be the famous person I once aspired to be. With these looks, I'd be lucky if I made it as a circus freak.

I breathe in and try speaking. Ever since I've become this monster, I haven't been able to make words form. I try with my name, "D-do... D-dak... Dako... Dakota." A voice, much harsher than mine, overthrown by a deep underwater escapes, sounding in barely a whisper. It sounds monstrous, unappealing, gross, and frightening all at the same time. This is my new voice. I am able to say my name. It's much easier than, _I._ Dakota really is a monster.

A ruffle of leaves coats the air. Silence prevails as I search for the outcome. The frog-thingie that I had dubbed to be my only friend hops away, possibly startled. I'm pretty sure the russle came from a ring leader who is going to take me to the circus. I don't mind. I've lost my glory and my dignity's pretty shattered as it is. I hear the ruffling again. I shield my eyes as someone would from a bright light. I know they can still see me, but I have hope that I am able to somehow camouflage into the forest. As silly as it sounds, as I said before, my head is not quite in the right place at the moment.

The ruffling stops. A nervous foot stomps on the forest floor; not hard, but definitely not soft. The crack of a twig, the brush of the dirt. By the moment I am certain it is a mutation more gruesome than I, it stops. A familiar voice echoes through my ears. It is nervous, uncertain, lacks confidence in its own deep way. This is my favourite sound in the world, as crazy as it seems. It takes me like breath to a flame. I melt inside knowing that someone recognized me. "Dakota." I don't look up, knowing fully who it is. He does not love me anymore. The tables have turned; I am not out of his league anymore- he's out of mine. "Hey, Dakota," he laughs his awkward chuckle that kills me inside. He will never change. I don't look up as much as it hurts me to hurt him. The one who once called me an _Angel_ now sees me fallen and damaged. My wings have broken beyond repair. I flinch as I feel his warm hand on my scaly skin. I struggle not to look at him, knowing it hurts him. I don't want him to see me like this. At my worst. "Gee, you're looking great as ever!" I hear him beam.

I blush in response. I try to hide it because I am unsure what colour it is and whether I even want to know. I'd be lucky if it's still red.

I eventually give in and look up. Sam is still his self. Happy and chubby as ever. His short, curly hair is as red as ever; his chin holds that adoring stubble; his dark eyes are still behind those dorky glasses. He smiles and laughs again. "There's that pretty face," he coos.

I take a deep breath. Why did I ever downsize such a large personality like Sam? I force myself to speak, "S-S-Sam." He smiles shyly, he wants me to continue. "Dakota i-is ugly. Why do- does Sam say Dakota is p-pretty?" I ask slowly and choppily. God, I hate the cacophony my new voice makes.

Sam gives me a confused look by raising an eyebrow. "Because you're Dakota Milton: Girl of my Dreams! Anyone would be lucky to have you. Have you seen yourself? You're a super star alone!" Sam really is the sweetest thing ever, but he really does need to work on his lying. I don't deserve him.

"Sam, stop lying to Dakota," I respond lowly. Speaking is getting a little easier. "Is Sam blind?"

Sam shrugs, still clueless as ever. "I may be blind, but I can feel. And, Dakota, I feel that you are the most extravagant thing that has ever walked the planet. Through better and worse; poor and rich; old or young; you will always be the one I want to be with."

I feel worse now. I should have never doubted Sam's love. Maybe being ugly won't be so bad after all? "Really?" I ask.

"Really," he responds, taking my large, scaly hand in his smaller, gamming hand. He attempts to pull me up, so I pretend he did the work by standing up.

"Dakota loves Sam," I say as I lean down to nuzzle his cheek.

"And Sam loves Dakota."

Maybe if I continue graceful dancing, life will get better. Time can only tell.

**Eh, hopefully it was in character. I had fun writing this. Please R&R. Those who review get cookies.**


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